


The Flaw In The Plan

by AlmostGinger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Non-Canon Relationship, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmostGinger/pseuds/AlmostGinger
Summary: It has been a decade since the war ended and Luna Lovegood has become the talk of the music scene. Wizarding Record Labels are fighting over her. Malfoy's Record Label has tasked Romilda Vane with the job of getting Luna on-board. How is she going to persuade Luna that she has the best offer?(Basically the 'Luna is a Rockstar' fic that nobody asked for)
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Romilda Vane
Kudos: 5





	1. Sunglasses indoors, par for the course

Romilda lunged at her alarm clock. Still groggy from the night before, she groaned at the ceiling as it appeared to spin at an alarming speed above her. She pulled herself from her bed, ignoring the two half-naked strangers still in it, and staggered through her apartment.  
Her throat was dry, and her memory was jagged. She always kept a nice cold hangover potion in the fridge for these occasions. She paused before she got to the kitchen. There was a snigger from the sofa.  
Draco was leaning against the sofa back, ever the wannabe in his suit and sunglasses.

“Why are you wearing sunnies indoors? you look like a twat” she said. Had she had been sober, she may have held back on calling her boss a twat. Although it wasn’t the first time. He never seemed to care either way.  
“Oh Romy, are you still drunk? Tut Tutt. You should probably freshen up. Mummy wants to see you” he said with a smirk.  
Romilda tried not to sigh.  
“What time?” she asked.  
“You’ve got twenty minutes” he replied. He had known about the meeting two days ago, but he enjoyed putting her on the spot. She always worked so much harder under pressure.  
“Twenty minutes? You are such a bastard.” she said scowling at him.  
He merely cackled in response before disapparating from the loft.

Romilda didn’t bother with breakfast. She doubted she would be able to keep it down. She had a shower, fixed her hair, got dressed and kicked out her two disgruntled bedpartners. She didn’t have time to try and remember their names. Mrs Malfoy was not the kind of woman you kept waiting.

Romilda had been working for the Malfoys for three years now. When Draco had announced that he wanted to be a music-producing mogul his mother had of course indulged him. It made sense, his only real talents being preening, and networking with the elite. With his mother’s money behind him Malfoy’s label had become one of the most prominent, both in wizarding and muggle Britain.  
They had brought Romilda in to manage the artists. The ones that Draco couldn’t manage, either because they hated him, or because he hated them. Romilda was the one to smooth things over. Temperamental artist? Send in Vane. That was generally how it went. She wasn’t complaining. She loved her job. She got to hang out with celebrities, go to all the best parties and her studio loft was full of stuff that designers sent to her for free. 

She arrived at Malfoy Manor with six minutes to spare. Draco was waiting for her in the lobby.  
“I took a wager with Mummy that’d you’d be late. I owe her ten galleons” he sighed.  
“You need a hobby” she replied, sitting in the large leather armchair by the fireplace.  
When she had first visited Malfoy Manor, she had been overwhelmed by its opulence. Dark mahogany doors, huge marble fireplaces, and grandiose statues of Malfoy ancestry at every turn.  
Now she barely noticed. She was accustomed to it.  
The grandfather clocked chimed the hour. Both Romilda and Draco stood and went to stand at the door to Narcissa Malfoy’s office.  
“After you” Draco said, with a faux bow.  
“Always the gentleman” Romilda said rolling her eyes. She opened the huge door and stepped into the office. There were bookshelves from floor to ceiling along one wall, and huge diamond-paned windows on the adjacent wall. The chandelier above swayed as the door closed behind them At the back of the room, behind an intricately carved desk, sat Mrs Malfoy. Her platinum hair almost blinding Romilda as the sunlight bounced from it. She squinted as she greeted the woman at the desk.  
“Mrs M” she said.  
Narcissa bristled but didn’t reprimand her. She knew Vane only used the detested moniker to get a rise out of her. She had yet to give her the satisfaction.  
“Vane, you smell like The Leaky Cauldron’s drains. Draco, get her a wheatgrass and ginger cleanser. She’s clearly still inebriated” said Narcissa, with a hint of disdain. She approved of Vane’s work, but usually not the methods she used to execute it.  
Draco slinked over to the drinks cabinet in the corner.

“You did well with Zabini.” said Narcissa, casting an icy gaze over the witch before her. Romilda was a pretty woman, she could have been beautiful, Narcissa thought, if she hadn’t ruined her features with the nose piercing and the tattoos.  
“Thank you. It took longer than I had anticipated, but I think he was worth the wait” Romilda replied. Naricissa nodded her agreement.  
Draco returned with a glass of what Romilda could only assume was swamp water. It looked like he had dredged the Black lake.  
“Bottoms up” he said passing her the glass.  
She downed the glass and tried not gag at the smell of the liquid. As it made its way down her throat, she started to feel better. By the time she had finished the glass, she felt as if she had just finished a six-month detox at a yoga retreat.  
“Better?” asked Narcissa, with a knowing smirk.  
“Very much so” she replied.  
“Good. This is important. Pay attention. I want you to go to The Shrunken Head tonight. It is open mic night. Her set starts at 8.30. Do whatever is required. There is no budget on this one” explained Narcissa.  
Romilda raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, no budget? Who could possibly be worth so much?  
“Who is she?” she asked.  
“She’s been drawing in muggle crowds too. They’re saying she’s the new Stevie Nicks” said Draco.  
“Seriously?” replied Romilda. She couldn’t think of anyone doing the circuits that could even come close to getting that reputation.  
“Luna Lovegood, I want her on our label. Whatever it takes” said Narcissa sternly.  
Romilda’s jaw dropped. Loony Lovegood? The idea was comical.  
“Don’t gawp Vane, it is not becoming.”  
Romilda closed her mouth but continued to stand there looking baffled.  
“You are dismissed, get to work” said Narcissa, shooing her out.  
Draco followed her out.

Once back in the lobby, Romilda turned to face him.  
“Seriously? Loony Lovegood? Is this an April fools?” she asked.  
“I know I know. It’s gold. And you thought Longbottom signing that modelling contract was weird” replied Draco as he walked her to the fireplace.  
“He did have a hell of a glow-up” she said.  
“He’s still boring though” he replied.  
“True. See you later” she said, stepping into the fire-place and joining the Floo Network.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Arctic Monkeys -No.1 Party Anthem


	2. People change, but you know some people never do. You know, when people change, they gain a peace but lose one too

Romilda headed down the winding steps to the pub. The Shrunken Head was a rowdy bar, housed in a disused merchant vault under Knockturn Alley. Its bare brick walls and industrial decor gave it an edgy feel compared to The Leaky Cauldron and the other more ‘traditional’ wizarding pubs of Diagon Alley. She made her way through the already crowded dancefloor and headed straight to a reserved booth seat in the corner.  
“Romy, back again so soon?” smiled the landlady as she placed a glass of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky on the table.  
“You know me Suze, can’t stay away” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant. The fact that she had returned to the same booth in less than twenty-four hours since her last visit amused Susan Bones greatly.  
“I’m not judging, I’m just glad you changed your clothes” Susan said with a laugh.  
Susan was always pleased to see Romilda swagger through the door. They had a mutually beneficial relationship. Romilda was always guaranteed a booth and drinks on tap, and Susan got a handsome donation in her Gringotts vault every month. Occasionally, Romilda would stay the night. It was only ever casual, and neither was under the illusion that it was anything more.  
“Apparently you’ve got someone worth seeing tonight. Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Romilda with a pout.  
“I can’t do all your work for you. You can’t get complacent, Romy” the landlady said with a wink.  
“Is she worth the hype?” asked Romilda.  
Susan thought it over for a minute.  
“Yeah. She’s got a real stage presence” she said, finally.  
Romilda couldn’t imagine the petite, straggly blonde girl she remembered from Hogwarts being able to command a stage.  
Susan left to help the barmaids who were quickly becoming overwhelmed by the number of patrons waiting to be served. There really was a decent crowd tonight. Romilda hadn’t seen the bar this busy since Christmas.  
The first act took to the stage. A young, stocky kid who looked like he might pass out with fear before he even started. With positive encouragement from the generous crowd he managed to wail out a few words. He wasn’t terrible. The crowd happily swayed along to his simple ballad.  
Romilda was paying too much attention to the crowd and hadn’t seen McLaggen approaching until it was too late, and he was sliding himself into the seat opposite her.  
The sound of her groan was drowned out by the cheer of the crowd as the kid finished his song.  
“I wasn’t sure it was you at first. I nearly didn’t recognise you without your gaggle of junkie girlfriends” he said.  
“That seat’s taken” she said, not taking the bait. Their exchanges were always biting. It had only worsened since she had signed Zabini to Malfoy’s label. As McLaggen worked for Celestina Warbeck’s label the two were never on the same side of any table.  
“If you’re after Lovegood, you’ve no chance. She’ll never be associated with Death Eaters” he sneered.  
“I’m going to stop you there. Narcissa is not, and never has been a Death Eater. Draco may have the Dark Mark, but he was sixteen years old and backed into a corner. He has spent his adult life pouring his money into rebuilding the damage done by you-know-who’s followers.”  
McLaggen snorted. He wasn’t buying into Malfoy’s attempts at quenching his guilt.  
“He runs a summer training class for Muggle born kids to learn Quidditch before they start at Hogwarts” she added.  
“You think I don’t know a publicity stunt when I see one?” he replied.  
“Whatever” Romilda shrugged. Draco didn’t have to prove himself to the likes of Cormac McLaggen.  
“If you ever get tired of working for dirty war criminals I’m sure I could find you a job at Warbecks” he said getting up from the table.  
“If you ever get tired of being an arrogant, self-righteous prick, I’ll be sure to get in touch” she replied with a sweet smile.  
He scowled and walked away.  
She took another sip of the golden liquid in her glass, relishing the feel as it warmed her from her throat down to the pit of her belly. She turned her attention back to the stage. The bashful youth was finishing his set and seemed as surprised as the audience that he had lasted the full twenty minutes without fainting.  
Romilda checked her watch. Luna was up next. She watched with interest as the witch took to the stage. She was wearing bright yellow robes and a crown of daisies in her hair. She had always looked bizarre and out of place at Hogwarts but on the stage her quirky style seemed more acceptable.  
She enchanted the several instruments on the stage and began to sing. Romilda understood why Narcissa was so keen to get the witch on her books. Luna’s voice had an ethereal quality that was utterly transfixing. The crowd lapped it up. What Romilda found particularly interesting about Luna’s performance was how un-ostentatious it was. And yet, the audience were mesmerised by her. Luna didn’t know how good she was.  
Luna’s second song, a softer, folksy-ballad, brought Romilda out in goosebumps. She absolutely had to speak to her before McLaggen could win her over with his tired spiel.  
Romilda left her booth and used her elbows to fight her way to the front of the tightly-packed crowd. She clocked McLaggen stage left, exactly where Luna would exit.  
She retreated to the bar and waved Susan over.  
“Suze, Can you get me a scrap of parchment?” she asked, with a smile that showed off her dimples. Bones was a sucker for the dimples.  
Susan passed her a tatty bit of mead-stained parchment and the tiniest quill she had ever seen in her life.  
She scrawled a quick message onto the scabby paper and enchanted it. It folded itself several times until it resembled an origami rabbit and then she sent it hopping through the air toward the stage. It landed, at Luna’s feet. To her credit, she didn’t react and continued into her third song, which was an upbeat yet grandiose pop song. The crowd were going wild for her.  
Romilda, grabbed another drink and headed back to her seat.  
Luna finished her set to applause that could be heard two streets away. She packed away her instruments, and scooped up the paper rabbit before leaving the stage. As anticipated, McLaggen was on her in an instant, Romilda watched as he waved a business card in Lovegood’s face. She could see him getting redder in the face as he spoke. She tried to gauge Luna’s reaction to him. It was impossible. The woman was just as other-worldly off stage as she was on it. She would have more luck trying to gauge the emotional responses of her owl.  
After a few minutes, Luna finished her conversation with Cormac and was then caught up with enthusiastic members of the audience. Romilda considered getting another drink. The fawning crowd could keep her busy for ages yet.  
Eventually Luna was stood at her table, a canvas bag containing all her instruments in one hand and Romilda’s note in the other.  
“I got your rabbit” she said expectantly.  
“I was trying to make it a hare, like your patronus, but that was the best I could do” smiled Romilda.  
“It was a good attempt” said Luna.  
“Please, sit down, can I get you a drink?” said Romilda.  
“No thank you. I can’t stay long, My dad’s waiting for me” said Luna. Romilda frowned. Was she twelve?  
“OK, let me just say my piece real quick. Luna, that performance was transcendental. And I don’t use that lightly. I would love to represent you. DM Records would be a great platform for your talent” said Romilda.  
Luna tilted her head, reminding Romilda of a confused puppy.  
“No, thank you, Romilda” she replied with a smile.  
“Really? Don’t you even want to hear what we’re offering? This would be so lucrative for you. You can literally name your salary. You would have the best representation in the industry!” said Romilda, getting a little fired-up.  
“I don’t want to work for the Malfoys” said Luna.  
“People change” replied Romilda softly. She couldn’t expect Luna to have forgotten or forgiven her months of imprisonment in Malfoy Manor during the war.  
“Have you changed Romilda? You were very unkind to me at school. I’m not sure I want to work with a bully.” Luna’s words came out of soft but hit her like a slap in the face.  
“No, I haven’t changed. I’m still obnoxious, and bolshie, and at times, I am quite mean.” replied Romilda.  
Luna was surprised by the other witch’s honesty. She was doing a poor job of winning her over though.  
“The thing is Luna, I’ll always be honest. When I was unkind, it was to your face. I never said anything behind your back that I wouldn’t have said to your face. Can you say that of McLaggen and his Warbeck cronies? I mean it when I say that I think this deal would change your life. I’ll give you time to mull it over. My contact details are on the rabbit if you have any questions. Perhaps we could meet next week to discuss your thoughts?” said Romilda.  
She couldn’t tell if Luna had even listened to a word she said. Her gaze was elsewhere.  
“Have a good evening” Luna said, before picking one of the daisies from her crown and placing it gently on the table.  
“Thanks for the hare” she said with a smile before disappearing back into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title taken from 'Seasons (Waiting On You)' - Future Islands


	3. If I stay here trouble will find me

Romilda sighed and downed her third coffee of the morning. She was nursing a relatively malignant hangover and wanted to be in bed with the curtains drawn. Alas, she was in Maestro’s Music shop in Hogsmeade, over-seeing a record signing event. Draco had conveniently been called to an ‘urgent’ meeting first thing that morning and she had been left to ‘babysit’ the brattish indie band in his absence.  
‘Agitation Station’ were a trio piece, made up of two skinny brothers and their neighbour. They were extremely popular with the Hogwarts students, and so sending them to Hogsmeade on the first Saturday that the third years were allowed out was proving to be particularly lucrative. She just wished she didn’t have to listen to their inane requests and witness their pathetic attempts at impressing teenage girls. 

“Yeah like, I was speaking to Myron Wagtail and he said it would be totally cool for us to go jam with him next week” said Jinx to his brother, just loud enough for an approaching fan to hear. The wide-eyed girl interrogated Jinx on his apparent new friendship with the Weird Sister frontman for longer than Romilda could bear. It was bad enough that the obnoxious twat insisted on being called Jinx (real name Francis Nolan, apparently that wasn’t Rockstar enough), listening to him wax on about someone Romilda knew he had never even met was killing her vibe.  
“Jinx, mate, wrap it up, you’ve got a long line of fans waiting” she shouted from her spot on the stairs. The floppy haired teen looked up and gave her the finger. She rolled her eyes and made a note to spit in the next drink he asked her for. 

Draco materialised just as the event was coming to an end.  
“Great work guys, you’re killing it” he said to the band, giving them all fist bumps like he was someone’s tragic uncle. For reasons that Romilda was unable to fathom, the boys seemed chuffed to get Malfoy’s blessing.  
“Are you coming for a drink Draco? We’re heading to the Three Broomsticks” said Travis, tapping his drumsticks on the back of Jinx’s head as he spoke.  
“Yeah sure, I’ll meet you guys down there” replied Draco with a thumbs up. Romilda grimaced. The cringey display was doing nothing for her hangover.  
Draco’s tone changed as soon as the boys were out of the door.  
“Oh Romy, they are the worst. I don’t know how you got through eight hours with them” he sighed.  
“I best be getting a fucking excellent Christmas bonus, that’s all I’m saying” she replied.  
Draco laughed. They both knew she only stayed for the money.

“How did you get on with Lovegood?” he asked.  
“She took my card. Gave me a daisy. We’ll see” she said with a shrug.  
“Gave you a daisy? Is that a euphemism?” he asked looking slightly disgusted.  
“No, you weirdo. It was in her hair.” Romilda replied, shaking her head.  
Draco fell silent, he slicked his blonde hair back and then began twiddling with the small patch of hair on his chin that he was claiming was a beard.  
“Gus said McLaggen has been on the Wizarding Wireless Network. He’s claiming to have signed Lovegood to Warbeck Records” he said.  
He wasn’t angry, they had been in this situation before. Zabini had been signed to Warbeck for six months before he broke his contract and signed a two-year deal with their label. Romilda was good at playing the long game. She had a knack of being able to figure out what most motivated a person. Draco’s only reservations about Lovegood was their less than amicable history. He couldn’t see how even Romilda could navigate that obstacle.  
“Leave it with me, I’ve got it in hand” Romilda said, sounding way more confident than she felt. She was a firm believer of ‘fake it until you make it’.  
“Ok. You wana come to Zabini’s album launch party?” he asked.  
“I thought you were going to the Three Broomsticks?” she replied.  
“Salazar no. They won’t notice, they’ll be wasted in half an hour, competing to see which one can pull Madam Rosmerta” he said.  
“She’s at least three times their combined age” she said, slightly upset at the idea.  
“She’s still hot. She’s the only reason anyone ever frequents that godforsaken shithole” he said. Draco smiled as a wave of nostalgia hit him. Madam Rosmerta had been responsible for the sexual awakening of at least half the boys in Draco’s year. They’d all tried to get into her pants at some time or other.  
“Where’s Zabini’s shindig then?” asked Romilda, disturbing Draco from his memories.  
“At his mum’s house, obviously”.  
Romilda had never been to the Zabini’s house but she had heard the stories. The mysteriously enigmatic Mrs Zabini, with her seven dead husbands and her mind-boggling wealth. That’s where McLaggen had failed with Blaise. He had assumed money would be his driving factor. Zabini already had more money than he needed. Money held no fascination for him. No, Blaise wanted to be worshipped. He wanted constant reassurance, parties in his honour, awards. Anything that proved he was of value.  
“Well?” he said, getting impatient.  
“Alright, but there better be a buffet table” replied Romilda. He rolled his eyes and took her arm, placing it in the crook of his elbow and side-apparated to the Zabini estate.

It was not how Romilda had expected. Unlike Malfoy Manor, with its opposing stone and years of history, the Zabini’s home was strikingly contemporary. It looked more like a modern art gallery than the home of a pure blood wizarding family. The sound of revellers greeted them as they walked up the white gravel drive flanked by neat box hedges.  
“What time did this thing start?” asked Romilda, it was still pretty early in the evening for a party, by her standards.  
“Yesterday. 48-hour rave, apparently” replied Draco, pulling his shades from his jacket and putting them on. Romilda smiled to herself, Zabini was so fucking extra.  
The veranda was teeming with Zabini’s entourage, all in various stages of intoxication. There was a makeshift stage to the side of the pool, a centaur was playing dub-step on the decks.  
Draco took her arm and deftly steered her past a young witch who was vomiting into her own handbag. 

They headed through the huge patio doors into the kitchen, the counters were laden with buckets filled with ice and unopened bottles of Dom Perignon. They grabbed one each. Romilda had barely even recovered from last night’s hangover but having seen the state of the other guests, she had already resigned herself to another lairy night.  
“Look at the state of that” Draco said, eye-balling Marcus Flint, who was in deep conversation with a pot plant.  
“Off his tits” replied Romilda. Personally, she was more amused by Draco and the fact that he had produced a straw to drink his champagne, than she was about Flint talking to a cactus.  
“Come on, give me a tour of the gaff” said Romilda, swigging her bottle like a pirate. Draco sighed at her lack of refinement. Nobody had any etiquette these days. 

They wandered through into the dining room, huge abstract portraits hung from the walls. Romilda wondered how much they were worth. In that room, even the air tasted expensive.  
“Draco! Darling! You made it!” came the irritating tones of Pansy Parkinson. Romilda tried not to smirk as Draco was engulfed by Parkinson’s drunken embrace. Parkinson had been fawning over Draco since their school days and time had done nothing to diminish her enthusiasm.  
Romilda decided it was the perfect time to enact a minor revenge.  
“I’ll let you two catch up, I’m gonna go find Blaise” she said with a grin. That would teach Draco for putting her on babysitting duties. She ignored Draco’s pleading look and headed back outside. 

She cast her eyes across the partying crowd. Blaise was in the pool, with several topless witches. She wasn’t going to interrupt that particular party. She looked again for any faces she recognised. Or rather, any that she could be bothered to make conversation with. The majority of them seemed to have peaked several hours ago, and were now looking worse for wear.  
She was about to give up and go and flirt with Demelza Robins, for old times sake, when she noticed something slightly more interesting unfolding.  
Over to the side of the house, Neville Longbottom was stood with his back against the wall, he looked like he had just seen a basilisk. He wasn’t alone. A stunningly beautiful woman was talking to him. The way the woman held herself was grace personified. She could tell the woman was propositioning Longbottom. Poor Longbottom was getting redder in the face by the second. Part of her was keen to see the gorgeous creature turn Neville to mush but she decided to intervene. 

“Nev, I got you a drink” she said, marching over and pushing her bottle into Neville’s surprised hands.  
“Cheers” he said, looking confused but relieved.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to butt in, Has Nev been boring you with tales of his fiancée? I know Hannah’s a great girl, but Nev come on. Talk about something else” she said with a playful punch to Neville’s arm. Neville smiled sheepishly.  
“Indeed. And you are?” said the woman turning to Romilda. She had not been prepared for how magnificent the woman’s cheek bones were.  
“Romilda Vane, I work with Blaise” she said, trying to appear indifferent. She put her hand out for the woman to shake.  
“Oh, you’re the one that my son is always cursing” she said, shaking Romilda’s hand.  
“Fuck off, you’re not old enough to be his mum” replied Romilda, running her mouth before she had even realised what she was saying.  
Thankfully, Mrs Zabini took the compliment.  
“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Romilda said, trying to regain some composure. Now she regretted trying to save Longbottom.  
“I’ve heard much about you Ms Vane. I like your tattoo” said Mrs Zabini, lightly stroking the Threstal tattoo on Romilda’s tricep.  
“Thanks. Did it myself” replied Romilda. It was a lie and Mrs Zabini knew it. Mrs Zabini smiled to herself, this one was much more entertaining than Neville.  
“Have you any more?” she asked, in a tone as rich as treacle.  
“Not that I can get out in public” laughed Romilda.  
“Can I get you a drink Romilda?” asked Mrs Zabini. Romilda could tell from the way the other witch was looking at her, she was already heading into dangerous territory.  
“That would be lovely” she replied with a smile.  
Mrs Zabini nestled her arm in the crook of Romilda’s elbow and ushered her towards the house.  
Neville put the bottle on the floor, and quietly retreated. 

Draco had eventually managed to pawn Pansy off on Millicent Bullstrode, who had stumbled into the dining room, brandishing a silver tray laced with several lines of white powder.  
“Bit of Billy anyone?” she had said with a lurid grin. Ground Billywig stingers were the narcotic of choice in most circles now. The main effects being extreme giddiness, followed by levitation. Draco found the stuff pointless, but Pansy had been keen to partake. Once the levitation kicked in Draco made his exit whilst Millicent and Pansy hovered above his head in fits of laughter. 

Romilda was in a rather comprising position when Draco barged into the bathroom.  
“Deepest darkest Godrics Hollow!” he exclaimed upon walking in on Romilda, topless and straddling Mrs Zabini on the bathroom floor. If he could have scourgifyed his eyeballs there and then he would have.  
“Fuck!” shouted Romilda, scrambling to get off her client’s mother.  
“We are all adults. A certain amount of decorum in this matter would be appreciated” said Mrs Zabini, sitting up with far too much poise and grace for a woman who had just been found banging a stranger on her bathroom floor.  
“Absolutely” said Draco, backing out of the door and closing it behind him.  
“Perhaps we should adjourn to my chambers?” said Mrs Zabini.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Sea of love -The National


	4. RSVP Part 1

Dear Luna,

You are cordially invited to Malfoy Manor for our annual BBQ honouring and supporting the work of the House Elf Welfare Committee & Friends.

**Sat 19th June from 5pm - Late**

All food and drink will be provided.

Entertainment starts at 7pm

**RSVP to Romilda Vane, Artist Manager, Malfoy Records, OWL BOX 293**


	5. God I wonder why we bother, all the glamour and the trauma and the melodrama

Draco was in a foul mood. He had barely spoken to her since the incident at Zabini ‘s party. Romilda was beginning to wonder if Draco himself, had been having a thing with the lady of the House. It was hard to tell if his current temperament was due to her antics or due to the fact this his family home was currently overrun with house elves, and that “do-good-ers” like Hermione Granger were barking orders at him to get more burger buns. Probably a bit of both she decided.   
To keep out of his way, Romilda had offered to run the bar. She had been stood under the large gazebo for an hour now. The sun had at least stayed out for them and was beating down on the canvas roof. She poured out another few glasses of homemade lemonade. The house elves seemed to drink the stuff like it was going out of fashion.   
She kept looking out for Luna. She had hoped this kind of event would appeal to her. A BBQ in support of a charity that was run by her close friend Granger, what wasn’t there to love? So far, she hadn’t showed.   
“Vane, I need you to make me something strong enough to make this bearable” said Mrs Malfoy, gesturing at the crowded lawn where happy BBQ attendees were laughing and playing in the sunshine.   
“Sure thing Mrs M” replied Romilda, grabbing a bottle of Firewhisky and pouring it into a glass before diluting it a little with some gillywater and adding a slice of lime. Narcissa eyed her with an air of authority.   
“Another shot” she instructed, a little disappointed. She thought Vane was supposed to be a die-hard party girl.   
Romilda did as she was told and gave the drink a quick stir before passing it to the older witch. To Romilda’s surprise Mrs Malfoy didn’t move away. She looked unsettled. Not so much that anyone would notice. Most people would see the icy glare and haughty stance and not much else.   
Romilda had spent enough time around the Malfoys to see past the initial façade. She could tell something was off from the way Narcissa was tapping her glass, it was a small tell, but it was there.   
“As I’m playing bar maid, we might as well go along with the cliché. What’s on your mind Mrs M?” said Romilda.  
Narcissa scowled at her audacity. She didn’t appreciate being scrutinised in her own home.   
“Alright, whatever, just thought a problem shared was a problem halved” sighed Romilda, holding her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t fussed if Narcissa talked to her or not. She got paid all the same.   
“Draco and I have had a disagreement.” she said, so quietly that Romilda almost missed it. She tried not to reveal how surprised she was that the ice Queen was confiding in her.   
“Oh, he’s not mad at you Mrs M, He’s mad at me” replied Romilda with a laugh.   
“I assure you, I am the source of his current disposition” sighed Narcissa.  
“Why, what did you do?” asked Romilda. Sensing a vulnerability in the woman, Romilda waited patiently for her to reply.  
She was quite enjoying having her boss drop her guard.   
“I fear I have spoken too coarsely regarding Miss Greengrass.” Narcissa eventually confessed.  
Romilda raised a brow. She had suspected Draco had developed a little crush on Astoria Greengrass but clearly it was something more significant if he was arguing with his mum about her.   
“What’s your issue with Astoria? She’s a pure blood. Isn’t her family one of the Sacred 28?” asked Romilda, confused.   
“Yes of course. Her family is very well regarded. She came to dinner last night. She has some very interesting ideologies. She seems to think her pure-blood heritage is irrelevant.” replied Narcissa with a scowl.  
Romilda tried not to laugh.   
“Could be worse Mrs M. He could have brought Hermione Granger to dinner” she said. Narcissa tutted at the very concept.  
“All you need to do is apologise” said Romilda.   
“I don’t apologise. Apologising is admitting you were wrong” replied Narcissa with a frown.  
“Then we can just go back to pretending that he’s mad at me then” said Romilda, ever the problem solver.   
“What did you do?” asked Narcissa, trying not to sound as intrigued as she was. Narcissa knew Romilda had all the qualities of a reprobate, but for some reason her son had always found the young witch charming.   
“I slept with Mrs Zabini” Romilda replied.   
Narcissa’s lip turned slightly. That had been only a little unexpected. Mrs Zabini was notorious in their social circles. Romilda was just the latest in a long line of bed partners for the widow.   
“Why would that upset Draco?” asked Narcissa.  
Romilda shrugged. It was probably fine. Unless Blaise found out and kicked off.   
“I’ll speak to Draco, I’ll tell him you didn’t mean to be a bitch about Astoria” said Romilda. Narcissa flinched at Romilda’s turn of phrase. She regretted not forcing Draco to enrol the girl in etiquette and propriety classes.   
Before Narcissa had a chance to reply they were joined by Hermione Granger. Narcissa tried not to scowl at the arrival of the insufferable know-it-all.  
“Mrs Malfoy, another wonderful BBQ! Haven’t we been lucky with the weather?” said Hermione with a big, genuine smile. It was a marvel to Narcissa that Hermione could produce such a smile to her, the sister of the woman who had tortured her so.  
“Indeed” was all Narcissa managed. She didn’t like to admit defeat, despite Granger being able to forgive and forget, she simply was unable to make small talk with the girl responsible for sending her husband to Azkaban.  
Sensing the unease, Romilda stepped in.  
“Hermione, what can I get you? Butterbeer? Gillywater, Ogden’s Firewhisky? Jug of all three?” asked Romilda. Narcissa took her opportunity to leave, a curt nod in Romilda’s direction.   
“Just a Butterbeer please.” Replied Hermione.   
Romilda poured out a glass. She was desperately trying to think of a subtle way to drop Luna’s name into conversation. She was keen to know if she had deliberately ignored Romilda’s invite.   
“Neville said that you saved him from an over-amorous Mrs Zabini the other night” said Hermione, taking the Butterbeer.  
“Yeah. She was about to eat him alive” replied Romilda.   
“That was kind of you.” said Hermione.   
“It was just a ‘right place right time’ situation” said Romilda, trying to play it down. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t benefitted out of the intervention. It had hardly been altruistic in the end.   
Hermione smiled and returned to her family.   
The Weird Sisters appeared on the stage and the lawn was filled with the sound of cheers and applause.   
Draco appeared at the gazebo.  
“All the poison” he said, looking thoroughly miserable. Romilda had always thought Draco had melodramatic tendencies but he was truly outdoing himself.   
“What are you so pissed about?” she asked as she handed him an entire bottle of Firewhiskey.  
“Just things. You wouldn’t understand” he said with a condescending air.   
“Let me try. Are you pissed because your Mum doesn’t approve of Astoria? Or because you are having to put on a huge charity event for people you can’t stand the sight of? Is it because you caught your favourite member of staff mixing business with pleasure? Is it because you’re getting older with each day and time is slipping out of your hands faster than a golden snitch?” she said with a shit-eating grin.   
To her surprise Draco actually laughed.   
“Alright, you might understand” he replied, taking a shot-glass and pouring himself some of the Firewhisky. He wasn’t about to drink from the bottle like a Neanderthal.   
“Your mum was here just now, she is sorry for what she said. I mean she didn’t actually use those words, but she definitely didn’t mean to upset you.” said Romilda.  
“So Lovegood’s a no-show?” he replied, changing the subject. He didn’t often fight with his mother, he didn’t really want to discuss it with anyone outside of his immediate family, it felt like it would betray their values.  
“Yeah. I really thought this would be her kind of thing. I’ll keep trying. Persistence is key” Romilda said.   
She had hoped to hear something from the elusive woman by now. Even if was just to tell her she was signing up to Warbeck. She sighed, and pulled herself a pint of Butterbeer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Lorde- "Sober II"


	6. RSVP Part 2

Dear Luna, 

I hope you are well. I am writing to invite you to the 9th Annual Benefit Ball in support of St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.   
The Ball is being held at The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. 

Friday 11th July 7PM

This invite permits two guests. Formal wear is advised. 

RSVP to Romilda Vane, Artist Manager, Malfoy Records, OWL BOX 293


	7. So let's sink another drink 'Cause it'll give me time to think

Romilda was still hanging on to a tiny shred of hope that Luna would attend the St. Mungo’s Benefit Ball. She had hoped that because it was being held at Hogwarts and not at Malfoy Manor it might have held more appeal. But yet again, there was no sign of the blonde witch. She now wondered if including “formal wear advised” in the invite had come across too patronising.

She was sat at a table with Narcissa. Draco and Astoria had hit the dancefloor over an hour ago and not re-emerged. Romilda had given up making small talk with the older witch. They were both content to drink and people-watch in silence.  
Romilda saw Mrs Zabini from across the lively dancefloor. She really was astoundingly good-looking, Romilda thought. She wondered if she used a charm to enhance her beauty. Surely nobody was that flawless? Mrs Zabini caught her eye and gave her a flirtatious smile. As much as she had enjoyed their tryst, Romilda knew it wasn’t to be repeated. Mrs Zabini had already chosen her prey tonight, it looked like Oliver Wood was on the menu, whether he wanted to be or not. She watched as Oliver tried desperately to keep up with the tempo that Mrs Zabini had set. He tripped over his own feet a few times as they danced.   
Narcissa clocked Romilda staring at the couple dancing.   
“She’s not worthy of your time.” she said curtly, misinterpreting Romilda’s expression.   
“Thanks Mrs M” said Romilda, surprised that Narcissa sought to cheer her. She suspected Narcissa’s recent exposure to Astoria was softening her. She had finally conceded to the fact that Draco and Astoria were an item. It was quite warming really. 

Romilda poured them both another Firewhiskey. As she took a sip, enjoying the way it burned, she noticed a bizarrely dressed man entering the hall. He was tall, with long straggly white hair and wore a cap with a tassel that must have been obscuring his vision as it was so large, and it kept bouncing off his nose as he moved.   
“Who’s that?” she asked Narcissa, discreetly pointing to the wizard.   
“Xenophilius Lovegood” she replied, Romilda could hear the disapproval in Narcissa’s tone.   
Romilda sat up a little in her chair, trying to get a better angle to view the wizard, more importantly, to see if he had come accompanied.   
“You have the subtlety of a drunk leprechaun” Narcissa hissed in her ear.  
Romilda ignored her and continued to wiggle about in her chair, attempting to see through the crowd.   
“Have you pixies in your robes?” asked Narcissa with a frown.   
“I’m just trying to see who he’s with.” Romilda sighed.   
“Why not simply go to the powder room and take a detour past?” replied Narcissa. She wondered if the quantities of Firewhiskey that Vane consumed were taking a toll on her cognitive skills. She would have Draco send her for a medical in the week.

Romilda downed her Firewhiskey and made her way through the crowded dancefloor and over to the edge of the bar that had been set up. On closer inspection, it appeared Xenophilius was wearing some sort of recycled hessian sack. He was speaking in an animated fashion to a witch Romilda didn’t recognise. Needless to say, it certainly wasn’t Luna. The woman was at least wearing more traditional robes that Mr Lovegood.   
She wanted to introduce herself, surely if she made a good impression on her father, Luna would have to take her business offer seriously? Even under the influence of several Firewhiskeys, she knew it was a bad idea. It didn’t help that she could still feel Narcissa’s gaze burning into her back. No, she had to simply observe and move on. She carried on walking past the couple and headed toward the bathroom. 

As she pushed the door open, she heard the sound of sobs coming from the end stall. She grimaced. She could just tiptoe back out and pretend she hadn’t heard. She didn’t need to get caught up in other people’s drama. She had enough of that when she was actually attending the school. She wondered if it was Moaning Myrtle trying out a new toilet block.   
“Are you ok?” she asked gently knocking on the stall door.   
The sobbing stopped and was replaced with a couple of sniffs.   
“Can I get someone for you?” Romilda tried again.  
The door rattled as the occupier undid the lock and slowly opened the door. Romilda took in the scene, a distressed Hannah Abbott, her blonde hair slightly stuck to her face from her tears. She was wearing fairly stylish gold dress robes. Despite her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks she looked far too glamourous for the graffiti-clad wall and toilet backdrop.  
“Hannah, what’s happened?” asked Romilda.   
“It’s silly. I should just ignore them” she said wiping the corner of her eye with her sleeve. Hannah hadn’t changed a bit since their DA days. She still carried that air of naivety about her.   
“Ignore who?” asked Romilda.   
“The senior healers, I over-heard them talking about me. They said an ex-barmaid is only good for mixing drinks, not potions” she replied.   
“Don’t listen to those old wankers! They’re stuck in their ways. They’ve probably been in that job since McGonagall was a toddler. They’re just worried you’ll show them up by being better than them” said Romilda.   
“Do you really think so?” asked Hannah with a sniff.   
Romilda passed her some tissue and nodded.  
“You are a bad ass Abbott. You got this” she replied. Romilda had to wonder how Hannah had even managed to be the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron for so long, with the leering punters and frequent drunken brawls. She couldn’t imagine the gentle woman turfing folks out for causing trouble.  
“Thank you Romilda. We should have a Dumbeldore’s Army reunion sometime soon. It’s been too long” Hannah said, having composed herself a little.   
“That would be fun. I’ll let you and Nev organise that. Congrats on the engagement by the way” she replied.  
“Thanks, I’ll send you an owl” said Hannah giving her a bright smile, her face still a little pink from crying. Romilda smiled as Hannah went back out into the hall with her shoulders a little higher and her walk a little more determined.

When Romilda returned to the table, Narcissa looked thoroughly bored, as though she had been forced to sit through a week of Professor Binn’s classes.   
“Where have you been?” she asked, eyeing her suspiciously.   
“I was just chatting to an old friend. Don’t worry, I’ve been on best behaviour” she replied with a wink.   
Narcissa doubted Vane even understood the concept of ‘best behaviour’.   
“I think I might return home” said Narcissa.  
“Mrs M! it’s only ten. You haven’t even danced yet” replied Romilda.  
“I’ve shown face. I’ve pledged funds to St Mungo’s. What else is expected of me?” she replied dryly.  
“You’ve got me there. Are you going to say goodbye to Draco or are you going for a French Exit?” Romilda asked.  
Narcissa passed Romilda her unfinished drink and stood up.  
“You can pass on my salutations. I don’t want to interrupt their fun” she said.  
“Alright. See you next week boss” Romilda smiled, downing Narcissa’s drink. If she was going to be left solo, she needed more fire power.   
Narcissa shook her head and left the table.   
Romilda soon discovered that she didn’t like being the only person at the table. She focused her attention on the dancefloor but that was worse. Everywhere she looked there were couples dancing or in intimate conversation. It was like she was the only one in the room that was single. She now understood why Narcissa had looked so pissed-off when she had returned from the toilet. Even Xenophilius was paired off. It was sobering to say the least.  
She wondered if Suzie was working at The Shrunken Head tonight. ‘Fuck it’ she thought. If Narcissa could leave early, so could she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title taken from Dancing With Myself- Billy Idol


	8. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Liverpool’s legendary Matthew Street was buzzing with revellers. Muggles were spilling out of the bars and were dancing in the loud, music filled street. Romilda had to concede that Ginny and Hermione had done a great job on organising Hannah’s Hen Party. A weekend in the vibrant Northern city was a genius move.   
They had essentially taken over a whole floor of a muggle hotel. A bargain deal Hermione had found on the internet (after much instruction from Arthur Weasley on how to use “The Google”). They had started off with a few drinks as they got ready in the hotel before heading out for a meal at a well-reviewed Muggle restaurant and then onto a night of riotous dancing at the infamous Cavern Club and the surrounding pubs. 

“Shots!” shouted Ginny emerging from the crowd to their VIP booth with a tray of neon shots.  
The Girls responded with a chorus of woops and cheers.   
“To Hannah and Neville!” said Hermione raising her glass, the others followed her lead, they all grimaced at the sour tasting liquid.  
“Time for Bridal Bingo, Bitches!” squealed Ginny, as Hermione pulled out a pad of pre-printed Bingo sheets from her handbag.   
“Please tell me that you helped write these” Hannah said to Hermione. She loved Ginny dearly, but left to her own devices the mayhem the redhead could cause was limitless.   
“I did make her change some of the more salacious ones” Hermione replied, to which Ginny merely winked. Hermione passed the bingo sheets around the table.   
Padma grinned as she read the dares written on the squares.   
Parvati was already up and trying to convince a middle-aged muggle to let her kiss the top of his bald, shining head.   
“Woah! Get back here Patil, there’s rules you know!” shouted Ginny, gesturing at her friend to return to the table. Parvati sighed and thanked the accommodating man before returning to the table looking appropriately sheepish.   
“No magic is to be used in this game. You must use only your wit and other attributes” explained Hermione, who had of course, designated herself as judge and umpire of the game.  
“The first one to complete all the squares on their grid wins a prize, good luck ladies!” she finished.   
The women at the table dispersed at once.  
“We should pair up, we can get more achieved as a team” Susan whispered, grabbing Romilda’s elbow.   
“You reckon?” asked Romilda with a raised brow.  
“Of course, we’re doubling-up on our wit and feminine charms” she replied with a wink. Romilda wasn’t going to argue that. She looked at her sheet, and with a smile, grabbed Susan’s hand and dragged her over to the bar.   
She deliberately pushed Susan into a group of lads that were waiting to be served.   
They responded with the appropriate amount of surprise.  
“Wotchit love” said one, holding out a hand to steady her.   
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, we’re out on our friend’s hen-do. You know what us girls are like after a drink” smiled Romilda, stepping into the circle and retrieving Susan as if it to take her away.  
“Who’s the lucky bride then?” said one of the men. He was in his late twenties, he had short hair and a well-maintained beard. Romilda was distracted momentarily by his perfect eyebrows, he had better grooming skills than she could ever hope for.  
“Hannah, she’s over there” said Romilda pointing over to Hannah who was stood awkwardly as a drunk woman that Parvati had badgered was serenading her, badly.   
“She looks like she’s having a shit time” said the man laughing.   
“We’re doing bride bingo, Look!” said Susan thrusting the sheet into his face.   
He took the sheet from her and brought it away from his face so that he could focus enough to read it.   
“We can help you with some of this, can’t we lads?” he said, nudging his friend who gave a non-committal grunt.   
“Really?” asked Susan, giving him a smile that Romilda was jealous of.   
“Yeah, totally. You can wear my shoes for a photo, and Tom will buy the bride a drink. That’s two down already” he said with a grin.   
“That’s so awesome, thank you, I’m Suzie, and this is Romy” replied Susan.   
“Gareth” he said, shaking their hands. And just like that, Susan and Romilda, with enthusiastic help from Gareth, started steam rolling through their bingo cards.   
Tom begrudgingly bought Hannah a drink.   
Gareth gave them each one of his shoes to wear.   
Gareth coerced his mate Si to hand over his glasses for the duo to wear in a photo. He then gathered a group of willing volunteers to pay £1 to kiss the pair of them. The grid had said sell kisses for £1 and earn £5. Gareth had tutted at such a paltry amount and insisted that his friends tip them. Romilda ended up with a couple of muggle tenners thrust into her hands. 

They ran back to the booth, dragging Gareth with them to celebrate their inevitable victory, but alas, Katie had already been crowned the winner of bridal bingo.   
“How the bloody hell did you get that grid completed so fast?” asked Susan, utterly perplexed.   
Katie simply smiled and then leant over slightly, her top falling slightly to reveal her cleavage. Romilda almost bowed her head in reverence at the sight.   
“Fair play” said Susan with a hearty laugh.  
They sat down and Katie introduced herself to Gareth. He wasn’t her usual type, but he did have a strong, muscular frame that she could not ignore. He had the kind of physique that would make a perfect beater on the quidditch pitch. Romilda smirked at the way Katie swirled the stirrer in her glass. Gareth was definitely getting lucky tonight.

“Right this is bullshit, I can’t get enough people to kiss me” grumbled Ginny, stumbling back to their table.   
Ginny barely had time to finish her sentence before Romilda’s lips were on hers. To her credit Susan didn’t react to the scene. She suspected that Romilda was only doing it to get back at her for flirting with Gareth earlier.   
Romilda drew back, placing a pound coin into Ginny’s surprised hands.   
“Damnit Vane! you always go for the married ones” laughed Alicia as she and Padma returned to the table.   
Romilda shrugged and sat down next to Hermione who had witnessed the whole thing without so much as a frown. She was mellowing with age.  
“How’d you get on Hermione?” she asked, leaning over to look at Hermione’s bingo card. She had crossed her squares off so neatly it made Romilda question if Hermione was even drinking.   
“I did fine” replied Hermione, trying to shield her grid, just in case Romilda took it upon herself to start filling in the squares for her.   
“You’re missing serenade a stranger! That one’s easy, just have a sing at Gareth now” replied Romilda.   
Hermione shook her head.   
“Missed the boat” she said, tipping her head toward the dancefloor where Gareth and Katie were now shamelessly snogging each other’s faces off.   
“Where’s Hannah?” asked Susan as Parvati returned to the table with another tray of shots.  
“She’s outside with Angelina and Luna trying to convince the doorman to give them a cuddle” she replied, handing a shot to each of the witches at the table.   
“One more round here Ladies, then it’s on to Flares.” said Hermione, Romilda thought she should have had a gong or a bell, she said it with such authority.   
“I thought we were going to Heebie Jeebies?” questioned Ginny.  
“No, that’s tomorrow, after the ghost tour, remember?” sighed Hermione. Defeating Voldemort had taken less organisation than the planning of this Hen Party. She couldn’t fathom why Ginny was unable to keep the schedule that they had planned meticulously for the last six months in her head. These days, when Hermione closed her eyes to sleep, the image of the itinerary was burned on the inside of her eyelids. It was all the pair of them had spoken of since the beginning of the year.

“I’ll go get Hannah” offered Romilda, hoping to get another round of shots in en-route. She headed down the steps from their booth, past Katie and Gareth who were still very much wrapped up in each other on the dance floor. She made her way through the crowd and out toward the entrance. Hannah and Angelina were both in deep conversation with the burly doorman. He was laughing as Angelina tried to convince him to compete with her in a thumb war.   
“Darlin’ my thumbs are like boulders, I don’t wanna break your hands” he said shaking his head.  
“Ladies, last drink here before we move on, Hannah there’s obligatory shots waiting” said Romilda interrupting them.  
“Thanks for letting us squeeze your biceps, Ricky” said Hannah sweetly to the doorman as she wandered back inside.   
“Where’s Luna?” asked Romilda as she herded Hannah and Angelina back into the busy bar.   
“Toilet, I think” replied Angelina, she made a mini conga line with Hannah back to the table whilst Romilda went to round up Luna.   
She found the eccentric blonde, in the narrow corridor near the bathrooms, a guy with slicked back hair and too-tight jeans was looming over her. She could tell by Luna’s body language that she wasn’t enjoying his company.   
“Hey Babe, there you are, come on” said Romilda, bustling past the man and taking Luna’s hand.   
“Hey, we’re talking” he said quite put out at Romilda’s arrival.  
“Yeah? well, now you’re not, later’s” she said moving past him, her hand tight round Luna’s.   
“Rude bitch” he snarled, as they walked away, Romilda just laughed.   
Susan gave Romilda a curious glance as she returned to their table, still holding Luna’s hand. She dropped it quickly, before Susan could read anything into the gesture. She guessed she might be a little miffed at her having kissed Ginny.   
“Now that we are all accounted for, let’s get to Flares before Ginny buys us all more shots” directed Hermione. 

They marched out into the night air, Alicia and Angelina still singing the last song that the bar had been playing. Parvati and Padma were providing back-up percussion with ill-timed claps. Ginny was commiserating with Katie who had been quite disappointed at having to leave Gareth behind. Hermione, Hannah and Luna were way out at the front of the group, leading the way. Romilda and Susan had fallen back to have a little privacy.  
“You ok Suze? You’ve been kinda quiet” said Romilda as she adjusted her pace so that they walked in synchronisation.  
“Romy, I’ve been seeing someone. And I really like her and she really likes me. I hope we can still be friends, just not with benefits anymore” replied Susan with a sigh. She was very fond of Romilda, too fond perhaps, but their relationship was two dimensional. It was surface stuff and Susan was ready for a more fulfilling relationship. She was getting too old for mucking around. She wanted someone to come home to. To go to weddings with. To share her life with. She knew Romilda wasn’t there yet, but she wasn’t going to wait around for her when she had someone who was.  
“But our benefits are multiple.” replied Romilda with a suggestive grin, not really taking in Susan’s news.  
“I’ve told Luna she can stay in our room” said Susan, ignoring Romilda’s comment.  
“Why?” asked Romilda simultaneously confused and disappointed. There wouldn’t even be a chance of any “last time” shenanigans on the cards if Luna was present.   
“She’s sharing a room with Katie. And Katie has asked Gareth to meet up later” replied Susan.   
Romilda rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Katie had been through a bad breakup recently, if anyone deserved to get laid that night, it was Katie. It took her a few more minutes to realise that Susan had confirmed that she was dating and no longer accessible to her. They walked to the club in silence and Romilda made a conscious effort to avoid Susan for the rest of the evening.

Romilda woke up to the sound of the shower running. She sat up slowly and let out a small gasp of surprise on seeing Luna sat at the edge of the bed opposite, unashamedly staring at her over a cup of tea.  
Romilda had completely forgotten that Susan had offered to harbour Luna the night before.   
“Merlin’s beard you scared the crap out of me” said Romilda, brushing her hair away from her face with her hand. The hotel room was basic. Just two boxy-mattressed beds, a travel kettle with cheap tea bags and a TV on the far wall. The walls were beige, and the curtains discoloured from age. Luna, in her lime green robe, and radish earrings was such a loud entity in the dull room.   
“Good morning Romilda.” she said softly with a smile.  
“How long have you been awake?” asked Romilda, rolling her shoulders to stretch them.   
“A few hours. You sleep so peacefully” replied the blonde witch. Romilda tried not to get weirded out by the idea of Luna watching her sleep for who knows how long.   
“Would you like some tea?” she asked after observing Romilda for a few minutes.  
Romilda nodded. She wasn’t a morning person and she was finding Luna’s very presence an attack on her senses. Luna didn’t seem to notice and cheerfully poured her a cup of weak tea and passed it to her with a smile.

The bathroom door opened and a small plume of steam burst from the door, Susan, wrapped in the thin, threadbare hotel towel, her hair wet and dripping down her shoulder, shortly followed.   
“She’ll need more than tea. Here, I packed you a hangover potion.” said Susan, smiling slightly when she saw the grimace on Romilda’s face. She was such a diva in the morning.   
Luna watched Susan pass Romilda the bottle, the way Romilda scowled as she downed the liquid. The way Susan watched on, as though Romilda were the most fascinating thing in the room.   
“Are you two lovers?” she asked.   
Romilda was still not awake enough to know how to properly respond but Susan beat her to it.   
“No. Romilda and I are just friends” she replied, grabbing her clothes and heading back into the tiny bathroom to change.   
Romilda sighed and let herself flop back onto the bed. She had arrogantly assumed that she and Susan would eventually settle down together. At some point. It had always seemed inevitable to her. It wasn’t that Susan was her “back-up plan”, well, OK, it kind of was.   
She hadn’t thought Suze wanted anything more than what they already had. Sure, she had invited her to go out with her friends that time, and she had said no, assuming it was just a pity invite. She hadn’t actually thought Suze wanted her to meet her friends. She hadn’t really thought Susan wanted anything serious.  
As she began chanting a mantra of “Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” in her head, Luna piped up.  
“You haven’t tried to talk to me about Malfoy Records”  
Romilda sat up sharply, then regretted it immediately as her vision swayed, the potion took too long to take effect these days. She would have to find a different remedy.  
“No, Because I am not at work. I’m not here to badger you into signing up, I’m here to have fun with my friends and celebrate Hannah.” Romilda replied, in a tone that suggested she thought Luna was the most idiotic creature in existence.   
Luna was a little taken aback. She busied herself with looking at the travel kettle. Romilda lay back down on to the bed, her arm draped across her eyes. 

“You are going through a great change. You’ve diverged from your path. But if you listen to those around you, you’ll find peace” said Luna, dreamily.   
“What the fuck are you on about?” said Romilda. She didn’t bother to move from her position.  
“Your leaves. They suggest that you may be on a path of great emotional growth” replied Luna swirling the half-drunk cup.   
Romilda had always taken divination seriously and had regular readings from a wizard in Bermondsey. He had only ever talked of her great success and ambition. He had never factored ‘peace’ into her future. Romilda rolled over, hoping Luna would get the hint to shut up.  
“We should get some breakfast” said Susan, re-entering the bedroom.  
Romilda moved so fast she got a stitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want To Have Fun"


	9. No RSVP required

Dear Luna,   
Cormac informs me that you have signed to Warbeck Records. I wish you every success. You have a rare gift and I hope those at Warbeck appreciate that.   
If you ever find yourself requiring different representation, or advice, please do get in touch.   
Yours Sincerely, 

Romilda Vane


	10. Now that I let you in, this is where we begin

Romilda was terrible at Quidditch. She had never really enjoyed flying. It messed up her hair and she always came away with at least one splinter from the broom. As such, during Draco’s two- week Quidditch ‘summer camp’, Romilda was on refreshment and first-aid duty.   
Whilst Draco and his old Captain, Marcus Flint, taught the little muggle-borns about the joys of Quidditch, Romilda sat on a deckchair topping up her tan. Occasionally she would have to apply a bandage or pour out a glass of orange juice.

She was applying a cold compress to a tiny kid who had just come off his broom. He was trying to be brave in front of the other kids, but his lip was trembling as he tried to bear the pain. Romilda couldn’t believe the dot of a boy was about to start Hogwarts in a few months, she would have put him as aged about seven.  
“It’s ok Finn, give it a minute and it’ll stop hurting” she said hoping to reassure the boy.  
She was sure it was only bruised and that he hadn’t broken his wrist.  
“Wiggle your fingers for me Finn”   
The boy moved his fingers and Romilda smiled in relief. It had been ages since she had used the Episkey spell, and she wasn’t convinced she’d be too successful with it now.  
“I don’t want to play anymore” said Finn.  
“No? I think you should give it another go. My Granny used to say, if you’re not falling off, you’re not trying hard enough” replied Romilda.   
“She’s right you know. You only get really good at something by not giving up” said a soft voice from behind them.   
Romilda turned to see Luna, stood behind her. The witch was wearing a long flowing white tunic and bright pink cat eye sunglasses.  
“What do you say Finn? Want to get back on the broom?” asked Romilda with an encouraging smile.  
“Ok, but if I fall off again, I’m going home” he said, one hand on his hip, Romilda was impressed with his sass. She took the compress from him and waited until he was back on the pitch before she addressed Luna.

“You know there is a chance that we just gave a life changing pep-talk there. Finn could grow up to be a Quidditch superstar” Romilda said.   
“I hope so” replied Luna with a sad smile as they watched Finn struggling to control his broom in the wind.   
“He’ll get it eventually” Romilda said.   
“I got your letter” said Luna.  
“Yeah?” Romilda replied, wondering where Luna was going with this.  
“Cormac was wrong when he said I had signed to Warbeck. He had misunderstood, or not listened. I’m not really sure.” said Luna softly.   
Romilda tried not to get too excited about what Luna was saying. If she wasn’t signed to Warbeck and she was finally, reaching out to Romilda, did it mean what she thought?  
“So you didn’t sign any contracts?” she asked, pouring Luna an orange juice and conjuring up another striped deckchair so that they could both sit down.  
“No. There were a few things I wasn’t comfortable with.”  
It didn’t surprise her that McLeggen had frightened Luna off. The guy was clueless.  
“What do you mean?” she asked.   
“He was just a little inappropriate. A little too hand-sy” Luna replied.   
Luna wasn’t the first to make this observation.   
“He is such a creep. Are you going to report him?” she asked.  
“No, it wasn’t that bad, I just didn’t feel comfortable around him.” Luna replied, shaking her head.  
“Well I’m pleased that you discovered McLaggen’s traits before you signed a contract and got lumbered with him” said Romilda with a smile. The sun was bouncing off Luna’s hair, highlighting her like a painting of a divine being that Romilda had seen in a Muggle church once.  
“Me too” said Luna, she seemed to be putting off what she really wanted to say.   
Romilda decided she would make it easier for her.  
“The offer from Malfoy Records still stands” she said.  
“Thank you. I suppose we should talk about that?” Luna replied.  
“Yeah, unless you were here to commentate on the quidditch game?” said Romilda with a smile. As bizarre as she had always found the other witch, she had always enjoyed quidditch more when Luna had been allowed to commentate.   
“Maybe next time” she said.   
“Have you still got that roaring lion hat that you used to wear to Gryffindor matches?” asked Romilda, as the memory resurfaced.   
“Yes, my father uses it for the scarecrow these days” replied Luna.   
Romilda laughed at the image. Luna seemed surprised that it could be a source of humour.   
“Sorry, let’s get back to why you’re here. Do you know what you want from us? Have you an idea about what you want to achieve with your music? I like to know what the ultimate goal is for my artists. Is it getting a multi-platinum record, is it playing the half time set at the Quidditch World Cup Final? What’s your driving force?” asked Romilda.   
Luna was surprised by that, she had expected the other witch to start throwing terms and conditions at her, like Cormac had. That was the other thing she hadn’t been comfortable with. Cormac had been insisting that she have a style re-vamp, explaining that her current attire was not going to help her break into the mainstream. There had been talk of getting her a band and changing her name. It had all made her feel dizzy, as though she had been set on by a gang of particularly mischievous blibbering humdingers.  
Romilda waited patiently for Luna to process her thoughts. She hadn’t been very patient when they had last spoken, at Hannah’s Hen, she figured she could afford the blonde witch some kindness now.  
“Comfort” said Luna after what felt to Romilda, like eighteen years of silence.   
“Eh?” replied Romilda, she pushed her sunglasses down her nose in a fruitless attempt to understand Luna better.   
“Have you ever listened to a song and thought that the lyrics had captured the very essence of you? Or of your experience? It reaches in and just gives you a feel of comfort, somebody understands. You’re not alone in your thoughts. Someone, even if you never meet them, they know how you feel. That is comforting. I want to give people that. I want to connect with people through music” said Luna, she had followed Romilda’s lead and dropped her sunglasses too. The sincerity in her gaze was intense. Romilda thought about Luna’s words. It was the first time that she had truly been able to comprehend the other witch. Music was healing to her too.   
“I get that” she replied.   
Luna gave her a bright smile.  
A shout from the pitch distracted them briefly. Finn had come off his broom again.   
“Be back in a minute” said Romilda as she got up from the deckchair and jogged over to where the boy sat on the pitch.   
Luna watched as the dark haired witch kneeled down on the grass, she was smiling warmly, she couldn’t make out what she was saying to him from that distance but she could see whatever Romilda was saying was having the desired effect. Finn was soon laughing and rising to his feet. Romilda high fived him and he was back on his broom within minutes.   
Luna decided perhaps her friends had been right, and perhaps Romilda wasn’t as intimidating or as mean spirited as she had initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title take from '24 hours' by Georgia


	11. They can tell you what to do but they’ll make a fool of you

Romilda sat back in the heavy leather armchair. Like most of the furniture in Malfoy Manor it was old and ostentatious and more about style than comfort. She kept trying to sink into it, but the chair simply refused to allow her to slouch. She wondered if Narcissa had charmed it.   
“This is a very pleasing turn of events” said Narcissa, gesturing at Draco to get the contract parchments.  
“There are some conditions” said Romilda.  
“Of course, there always are” said Narcissa with an uncharacteristic shrug.  
“She won’t come here. She doesn’t want to meet with either of you, if she doesn’t have to” replied Romilda bluntly.  
Narcissa’s top lip twitched briefly. She took a sip of the champagne that Draco had poured her as he let Romilda break the news of Luna’s agreement. If she were honest, Narcissa would happily avoid seeing the strange witch in person. She had no great need to see her in the flesh. She wouldn’t much relish the memories a meeting would evoke either.  
“You can report back to us. This is hardly a concern. Does Miss Lovegood have any questionable demands?” said Narcissa, fixing Romilda with a steely stare. Romilda liked it when Narcissa acted nonchalant. There was something more alluring about Narcissa when she was pretending not to care.   
“No. She’s requested a meagre salary compared to Blaise. She wants to have final say on production. No other requests.” Replied Romilda. She had given Luna the option of adding more terms to her contract but she had been insistent on simply wanting to reach people with her music. Romilda had made a conscious effort not to prey on the others witch’s naivety and added an extra zero on the end of the salary she had requested. The Malfoys could afford it.   
“Make sure the contract excludes any ridiculous demands from being added at a later date. Any new clauses will require a new contract” said Narcissa. Draco tapped the contract with his wand, making the amendments. 

“Get an album. Then we will have her open for Blaise on the tail end of the tour” said Draco, to which Narcissa nodded in agreement.  
“Time frame?”   
“Six weeks max” he replied, pouring himself another glass of champagne.   
“Six weeks? That’s not enough time for a novice” argued Romilda.   
“Blaise did it in six weeks” replied Draco.  
“Blaise had four contributing writers” Romilda snapped back.  
Narcissa held up her hand to halt any escalation.   
“Aim for six weeks. We can be a little flexible. If progress is slow, we will bring in the creative team to encourage productivity.” said Narcissa in a tone that made clear this was her final decision on the matter.  
“Fine” replied Romilda, haughty in her defeat.  
Narcissa smiled at her and raised the champagne flute slightly.   
“You’ve done very well Vane.”

***  
Luna was sitting awkwardly on Romilda’s sofa, her fingers tapping nervously on the neck of the guitar that lay on her lap. She had arrived at Romilda’s flat first thing that morning with her instruments and the instructions that she would begin writing an album. That had been three hours ago, and she was yet to have decided on a single chord progression.   
She glanced over to where Romilda was sitting, perched on the kitchen counter-top, idly flicking through the Daily Prophet.   
Luna was grateful that Romilda had managed to organise the business arrangement without her having to deal directly with the Malfoys. She was much happier at the idea of creating her record in Romilda’s loft apartment than one of the several recording studios in Malfoy Manor.   
There was just the problem of her lack of inspiration.  
She didn’t want to be ungrateful about her surroundings, but the acoustics were off. Or else the aura of the place was out of kilter. Something didn’t sit right with her and she couldn’t block it out long enough to compose a single line or note.

Romilda felt Luna’s eyes on her. She glanced up from an article about Blaise’s latest indiscretion with several high-ranking Ministry officials.   
“What?” she asked.   
“Could we perhaps record at my house?” asked Luna, her eyes big with trepidation. She wasn’t sure if she was pushing her luck.  
“Why, what’s wrong?” asked Romilda, with a raised eyebrow.  
“I just can’t settle” replied Luna, her forehead furrowed.   
Romilda was used to much more outlandish demands from her artists. She flicked her wand and immediately all the recording equipment folded up on itself and instead, in its place, was a small brown leather satchel. Romilda slid from the counter and picked up the satchel.  
“Lead on then” she said flatly.   
Luna gently placed her hand on Romilda’s fore-arm and side-apparated them to her home in Ottery St.Catchpole. 

Romilda took in the sight of the Lovegood house. It was a dark cylindrical building that reminded her more of a chess piece than a house. To the right of the house were endless fields. In the first field, Romilda noted with a smile, the roaring lion head hat atop a particularly dishevelled scarecrow.   
Luna lead her up the thin path, up the steep incline to the house. Xenophilius was at the door before they reached it. He was wearing a long golden robe with black vertical stripes patterned across. Romilda thought it made him look like a sweet from Honeydukes.   
He swept Luna off the floor in a dramatic hug, the kind Romilda had seen in insipid, muggle movies. She decided that Mr Lovegood was as absurd as his dress sense.  
He gestured her inside with a gracious arm.   
The Lovegood home was just as Romilda had anticipated. An equal measure of kitsch and clutter. And no semblance of order.   
“We can set up in my room” said Luna, observing the slight panic in Romilda’s eyes as she scrutinised the living room.   
“You could use the kitchen poppet, great acoustics in the kitchen” suggested Xenophilius helpfully.   
“We’ll try it” said Luna happily, skipping a path through copies of the Quibbler which were flying out of the enchanted printing press and doing laps of the room. Romilda got hit in the face twice on her small journey to the kitchen.

The kitchen gave Romilda motion sickness. It was tiled white and black from floor to ceiling but with the circular walls it made the room look like something out of a wall of mirrors. Lines bending as the room went.   
Romilda opened the satchel and set up the recording equipment on the worktop. Luna sat herself on a small wooden stool and rested her guitar upon her lap.   
“You can sit down” she said, pointing to a mismatching wooden stool on the other side of the table from her. Romilda took a seat. She wondered why the Lovegoods didn’t believe in cushions. She was bound to get a splinter in her arse from the gnarly old chair.   
Luna had barely begun to play before Xenophilius had waltzed in. He began tinkering with an old cauldron on the countertop with the same amount of discretion of an intoxicated giraffe on a bouncy castle.   
Luna stopped strumming immediately.  
“Don’t mind me” he said in a stage whisper that even the best panto Dame would be in awe of.  
Romilda glared at him until he finished what ever he was faffing with and left the room.   
Luna loosened her shoulders a little and began playing, her fingers gracing the strings with delicate accuracy. Romilda grabbed a copy of the Quibbler from the side and thumbed through the abstract pamphlet. She had only read two pages before Xenophilius was bumbling back into the room.   
“Just a thought Luna, you could call your album ‘Fretwork’. You know because guitars have frets. It would be a pun because Fretwork is also a name the muggles give to decorative designs carved into wooden panels and such” he said despite being given no encouragement from either witch.  
“That’s very clever Dad” said Luna kindly, pausing her playing once more.   
Romilda massaged her forehead with her fingers like a supply teacher about to combust.   
Xenophilius retreated once more.  
“Perhaps we should try your room? That way your Dad can use his kitchen in peace” she suggested, hoping that the stairs might deter Mr Lovegood from interrupting so frequently. They packed up the kit and headed back through the trajectory of the printing press and up some small, spindly stairs to the second floor.   
Luna’s room, in contrast to downstairs, was neatly organised. It was of course, rather bonkers in its colour scheme, but it was tidy.   
Romilda was most drawn to a small bed in a half moon shape that followed the contour of the wall. It was a smart design and it freed up the rest of the room, making it feel more spacious than it was. Luna set up the equipment on the floor and then sat herself on the bed, her back against the wall, her feet just about dangling off the side.   
She patted the side of the bed, Romilda joined her. It was a very small bed and as Luna began to hum along to the tune she was playing, she inadvertently knocked Romilda in the arm with the neck of the guitar.   
Romilda wondered why Luna hadn’t just charmed her room to give her more space. Surely, she didn’t enjoy living like this? What was the point of having magic if you couldn’t make your life more comfortable? She tried to focus on something else as the rhythmic jab to her elbow became more continuous. If she got through the afternoon without losing her mind it would be a small miracle.  
The door burst open, Xenophilius entered, armed with a tray laden with teacups and a shiny silver teapot.  
“Tea? It’s decaf” he said with a smile.  
“Death before decaf” muttered Romilda as she moved the guitar that had imbedded itself in her arm again.   
Xenophilius ignored her comment and merrily poured out two cups from the teapot.   
He passed one to Luna and then took one himself before plonking himself down on the bed between the two witches.  
“A rose between two thorns” he joked. More like a loud meteorite between two planets in different orbits Romilda thought.   
“Luna, have you thought any more on that bridge I showed you?” at this, Xenophilius deftly plucked the guitar from its resting place (Luna’s knees) and began a quick chord progression, whilst humming out of tune.   
“Ok, I’m going to use the bathroom. Luna, while I’m gone, pack some clothes. It’s time for the Music Writer’s Retreat” Romilda said standing. She didn’t need the toilet but she did need to create some distance between herself and Xenophilius. She was one more bad refrain away from smacking him round the head with Luna’s guitar.   
“Oh Luna, A writer’s retreat! Think of the opportunities!” she heard him say as she locked herself in the bathroom.  
The bathroom surprised Romilda. It was functional. And plain. No mind-warping optical illusion tiles, no clutter. No migraine-inducing neon walls. It was perhaps her favourite room in the whole house. She sat on the edge of the bath and wondered what she was going to do. She couldn’t take Luna to Malfoy Manor, her apartment was off, and this place was certainly not going to be conducive to producing an album in six weeks if Xenophilius was interrupting every fifteen minutes.   
She caught sight of her tattoo in the mirror, and she smiled as an idea formed in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Talking Heads 'Road to Nowhere'


End file.
